


If You Put Two Stubborns Together...

by Lulaypp



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman - Fandom
Genre: Alfred is there through the power of messages, Birthdays, Damian is a wonderful brother who is adorable and actually cares for his brothers, Fever, Gen, Jason and Damian kinda bonds., also nightmares, fluff?, sick-fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:34:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25920649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lulaypp/pseuds/Lulaypp
Summary: 16th of August. And here he is. In his apartment. With a killing fever. Feeling miserable. He hates his life.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Damian Wayne
Comments: 8
Kudos: 181





	If You Put Two Stubborns Together...

**Author's Note:**

> This story literally just wrote itself and I just went along. I had not goal no ideas so I hope it turns out fine.
> 
> Written for Jason's birthday. Happy birthday my little dramatic adorable emo boy. I love you.
> 
> Also, it is really late and I am not with my laptop so despite my several rounds of editing, there might be mistakes. Feel free to point them out.

Jason woke up worst than he felt when he came back from patrol. The clock read 12 yet he still feels so, so tired. The headache that had been flitting in and out of his brain for the past few days is now banging against his skull with a hammer. His throat feels so lumpy and sore.  
And his phone vibrating beside his head is not helping things. 

He blinked at the ceiling, waiting for his head to clear a bit and the pain to subside. He still haven't checked that cut he got last night. He probably should. But that would require him to move and he is not sure if he can even do that.

He tiredly moved his hand around, fumbling for his phone and by the time he grasped it in his hand, he already feels drained of energy. He forced himself to drag the phone infront of his face, the light from the screen burning into his eyes, and squinted at the lastest notification. It is a message from Dick. And it looks like he sent a line of confetti emojis?  
Jason blinked. Why would Dick send him that? And it seems the rest of his family, including Steph and Babs, have also left him a collection of messages. He locks his phone as the headache protests against the glaring light. While this has happened before, it is still a rarity and usually it is because something is going on. Family outing, Christmas, Alfred's Birthday-  
Hold on. Birthday.

Jason turned his head to his phone so quickly that his vision blurred and the headache came back back with full force as he let out a groan. He really hated it. If he is going to commit murder anytime soon, that stupid headache and the fever that brought it would be his first victims.

Once his sight returns, he turn on his phone.  
16th August. His birthday.

  
-

  
Jason eventually managed to drag himself to from his wonderful, _comfy_ bed. He only wished he can leave his headache behind as well. The clock on the wall moved its second hand over twelve again, marking his seventh minute in the dining room. He knows he should pull out something for breakfast. But he really is not that hungry and probably shouldn't use the stove in his condition. And cold pasta does not sound fun.

His eyes moved to the cupboard. There should be cereal somewhere in the apartment. If only he knows whether or not Dick has finished it.

Pushing himself up with a sigh, Jason tries his best to ignore the throbbing in his head as he walked to the fridge. He takes out the container of last week's pasta, poured it into a pan, turned the stove's knob before grabbing the spatula and carefully stirred the sizzling food.

He hopes Dick doesn't feel like dragging the entire family to his house for some surprise party again. Or drag him there. He _hates_ dealing people while battling a headache. Even worse when he has a fever. 

With the heated pasta in a plate, he sank back into his chair with a fork in hand. He does not feel like eating and the food is horrible but the Alfred voice in his head insist that it is the fever speaking.

Maybe he should send his family a message. Come up with an excuse to keep them away before they come running, either to bring him to the manor or to fret over his fever.   
He sighed. These are one of the times he missed being at odds with them. Then he would not have to think about how to avoid his family on his birthday.

After finishing up breakfast and throwing everything into the sink, Jason made the shuffling, slow walk back to his bed. Part of his mind is telling him that he should get something to drink before the sore throat worsens. But another part of his mind says that he would also feel better if he just sleep for a bit. He probably can even patrol tonight. He is just so tired and a nap sounds really nice.

But luck decided that he would get an earlier rest than he thought as his vision tunneled. He feels like nails are digging into his skull as he fell to the floor.

  
-

  
Jason hates waking up with a horrible fever. He never likes it. The only time he ever tolerated it was when he was younger and being sick means his dad would be there by his bed with a caring hand running through his hair.   
Funnily enough, he didn't remember falling asleep in the first place. Last he can recall doing was finishing that terrible pasta he heated up. And yet here he is on what he does believe is his bed. 

"You took your time," a young familiar voice muttered.

Jason peeled his eyes open before turning to his left. Standing by his bed with arms crossed was Damian. Jason's eyes furrowed into a frown. "Why are you here?" he asked, and _wow_ , if talking didn't hurt his throat horribly.

"That is none of your concern," Damian replied. Before Jason could say, Yes it does concerns him if it is his apartment, the kid continued, "What is concerning is your condition. You are fortunate that I found you unconcious earlier. Your fever is admirably high. You should have at least called Father or Pennyworth."

Jason huffs. Did he say that he hates being around people when he's sick? He was hoping the fever would have been gone by now. "But you didn't happen to call Dick did you?" He would die if he has to deal with a hovering, huggy Dick while suffering from a headache.

"Richard is not yet informed, I assure you. I have, however, contacted Pennyworth for his... assistance. He insisted that you stay in tonight and that he would keep everyone else at bay."

Jason sighed in relief. At least that is out of the way, even though it looks like he would be having Damian watching over him. He’s no longer in the mood for patroling anyway.

"I also cleaned and bandaged a knife wound you happen to aqquire. I am assuming you got during patrol and didn't bother to check it. 

_Now_ Jason is starting to get irritated. He is _tired_ , his thoat is _sore_ , and the headache has come back in _deafening_ force. "Kid, I am not in the mood for your interrogations and critisism."

"It was a comment, not an interrogation, Todd."

"Do you really have to be here?"

"My presence and assistance would benifit you."

"I doubt it. Why did you come in the first place?"

"I came to deliver an invitation to your birthday party at the manor. But that was canceled after I have found you unconscious and Pennyworth deemed you unfit for such events."

"And apparently you think you can enter my house without permission."

Damian merely rolled his eyes and ignored him as motioned him to get up. "Pennyworth has informed me that while you do not require medication, meals are still a must. So I have made you soup for dinner out of the ingredients I found in your refrigerator."

Jason is tired and stubborn and he really hates food. Getting up means moving and that would make his head feel worse. So he doesn't.

But Damian decides to take matters in his own hands as he slips an arm under him before pushing him up, not too gently, making Jason hiss at the sharp pain in his skull and his vision went white and fuzzy. "Eat." Damian's voice cuts clear through the ringing in his ears. Blinking, he saw that there was a bowl shoved in front of him. 

Jason gave his brother a glare but complied, taking the soup in his own hands. It is actually nice, having the warm liquid flowing down his throat. But it taste horrible and he doesn't know whether it is his fever or Damian's cooking skills.

"I also take it you have not showered since yesterday?"

"How'd you figure?"

"Are you not aware that you are still in your Red Hood uniform?"

Jason nearly dropped the bowl in surprise. Looking down, he realised that he is, indeed, still in his uniform. Huh. He must have been really tired when he came back.

"Tt. Imbecile."

"You try living with this headache while being immune to almost anything that can help, Brat."

Damian scoffed. "I would definitely fare better than you, Todd."

Jason rolled his eyes and when back to eating his soup. But it _really_ taste horrible and he is tired of eating so he passed a half-emptied bowl back to Damian. He let himself fall back against the matress and instantly regretted it as it aggravated his head.

"You should have a bath. Pennyworth says regular showers would help you in your recovery."

Jason glared at his brother. "Or I would also feel better if you leave me."

Damian crossed his arms and returned the glare.

-

It took a while but Damian has to admit. He feels pretty proud of himself and acomplished when Todd has fallen asleep after showering and letting him look over the knife wound again. 

His phone buzzed once as he pulls it out.

A message from Pennyworth. 'How is Mater Jason's condition?' 

Damian was about to type a quick reply when suddenly Todd started shuffling. Looking at his brother, Damian noticed the frown and look of distress on him. Nightmare, he recognised.

Damian cursed. The only experience he has ever had with calming a person down from one is with Richard. And he knows that his brothers are very different from one another.  
But he tries anyway.

Damian quickly approached Jason, who's breathing is becoming erratic. With Richard, he usually wakes him up first. So he did.

"Todd. You need to wake up," he tried. It feels a bit awkward as he gently shakes his brother's shoulder, who only flinched and gasped, turning away sharply.

Gritting his teeth, Damian grabbed both of Todd's shoulders and tried again, still gentle even if with little bit more force, "Todd you need to wake up. You are experiencing a nightmare and it is merely a dream." 

It only got worse as the elder started hyperventilating and mumbling incoherently, words of 'Don't's and 'Sorry's tumbling forth.

Okay. Okay. Damian tried to calm himself down. He has never had to deal with Todd in this state and it is starting to scare him. But he remembers Father doing it once after Scarecrow got the better of them.

Swallow thickly, Damian settled himself at the edge of the bed and hesitantly pushed his hand into his brother's white bangs, combing it back. "Todd. It is alright." He tried to imitate Father and kept his voice gentle but his brother pulled back. Damian frowned but presisted. He caught one of Todd's hand and gently pushed it against the bed, squeezing in a way he hope is comforting.

"S-stop it," words breathlessly slipped out from his brother in almost a whine. "C-can't-"

"Shh..." Damian continued running his fingers through the white-black hair, in a way he remembers Richard doing to him on occasion, as he tried to recall the words Father had used. "You are safe. Nothing would hurt you, Todd. I am here."

The breathing seem to slow down but his brother's face is still twisted in agony. "But- He-"

Damian pulled Todd's head against his chest, pratically burying himself under his brother. "No. No one would. I would make sure of that. It's alright, Jason." He expected, hoped, that Jason would calm down. But he was caught off-guard when his brother suddenly clinged to him, crying in his chest. Damian took a while to respond with tentatively rubbing his brothers back.

  
-

  
It was some minutes before Jason calmed down and fell asleep again. Damian has resigned himself to his fate of having his elder brother half on top of him. He doesn't nesecarily hates it, but he would appreciate it if Jason could be a little less heavier.

With a hand idly running through his brother's hair, he pulled out his phone with his other. The phone unlocks to his half written message to Pennyworth.

He was intending to tell his grandfather-figure that all is well. But now...

He retypes a concise message about his brother's condition. 'His fever is not escalating and I have made sure that he has done as you have intructed. He did however, suffer from a nightmare approxiamately two minutes ago but I have managed to calm him down.'

A few seconds after, a reply came in. 'Should I send for someone, Master Damian?'

Damian thought for a moment. He used to not be too keen on taking care of sick people and he knows that if Pennyworth is going to send anyone, it would be Father or Richard. Jason has made it clear that he does not want to be around either of them. Besides, taking care of his brother has tuned out pretty... satifactory. And gratifying.  
'Thank you, but I can assure you that Jason is in capable hands.' He sent the message before leaving his phone on the bedside table. Leaning his head back into the pillows, he is relieved that Jason's bed is comfortable and big enough for both of them.

  
-

  
The next day was as horrible as the last. Waking up also rouses the horrible headache that had been plaguing him for days. Jason really wants it to stop already. He just wants to stay in his bed and never move again.

That is until he heard sounds coming from outside his room. He opened his eyes and saw that his bedroom door is opened and there was the chair from the dining room by his bed. With a frown, he pushed himself up, shoving the headache aside. But that threw him into a coughing fit. 

His throat burns by the time he is done and he felt a small hand rubbing his back. He turned and found Damian staring at him. Blue eyes barely concealing concern and uncertainty.

A glass of water was shoved in Jason's face. "Pennyworth also mentioned that you should stay hydrated," was all Damian said, walking out of the room after Jason took the glass. "Breakfast would be ready in a moment." 

He had forgotten Damian came to his apartment yesterday. Which is excusable since he barely remembers it. What is left of the memory was awful, painful and murky.

Jason scowled and grumpily sipped his water, trying to ignore the soothing feeling against his throat. He hates the Brat. He hates his fever. And he hates-

His thoughts derailed when he saw a box, wrapped in red paper, situated at the foot of his bed. Careful not to aggravate his headache more than he needs to, he reached out and pulled it into his lap.

There was a small piece of paper taped to the top. "Happy Belated Birthday Jason" was written in a neat handwriting. He would recognise that cursive anywhere, and it was Damian's.

A smile spread across his face. Maybe he does not hate his brother after all.


End file.
